


time makes you bolder, children get older (i'm getting older, too)

by gilligankane



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “That’s enough,” she says sharply. Both boys startle, looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s Johnny’s first night ho- back,” she says, tripping over the words.Not home, she thinks.No, his home is in Hotten, now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "What happened doesn't change anything."

Charity presses a hand flat against the wall, steadying herself as she tries to untangle her foot from the handle of the black bag thrown carelessly at the bottom of the steps. “Moses!” she shouts up the stairs. “What’ve I’ve said about your bags?”

“Dunno,” Moses says from behind her, leaning in the doorway to the living room. He’s chewing on a celery stalk, the snap of it like ice under her boots in the early winter mornings. “S’not mine.”

“It’s not-” Charity sighs, throwing a hand up into the air. She grabs the banister, leaning back into the stairwell. “Johnny!”

A blond head pokes around the landing. “What?”

Charity lifts an eyebrow and looks down at the bag.

“Oh, right,” Johnny says, wincing. He clods down the stairs, still unsure of the gangly length of his body now that he’s shot up six inches overnight. He comes to a clumsy top in front of her, picking the bag up and heaving it over his shoulder. “Sorry.”

Charity sighs. “You’re alright, yeah?” She reaches up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s getting too long on the top, flopping down over his forehead. “It’s just that you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“Oi,” Moses protests. He takes another bite of celery, chewing noisily.

“Anyone who eats…  _ that _ ,” Charity mumbles, smirking when she catches Moses’s eye. She nods towards the living room. “Come on, then, Rabbit. Let’s let your brother get settled and finish the tea.”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “ _ You _ made tea?”

Charity scoffs. “‘Course not. Marlon’s made it, hasn’t he?”

“That’s more like it.”

Charity pinches Johnny’s side. “That’s enough out of you. One more word and you’ll go the night without.”

Johnny grins. “Right, Ma. Whatever you say.”

“It  _ is _ whatever I say,” Charity says over her shoulder as she moves back into the living room. “And you’ll do best to remember that, yeah?”

“Yes, Ma,” both boys parrot.

Charity pauses at the couch, watching Moses and Johnny grapple in the stairwell. Johnny easily towers over Moses now, but Moses is built like a Barton - muscled and solid. She smiles softly as Johnny gets the upper hand just to lose it again. Moses grabs the black bag and takes the stairs quickly, Johnny following him up, taking them two at a time. 

“They’ve gone and grown on you, haven’t they?”

Charity’s smile widens at the soft voice in her ear. “Can you believe our Moses is going to be sixteen this year?” Johnny will be too, soon and each day that passes by makes her wish they were young again, arguing over dinosaur figures and who would get a tub first, just to take a tub together. 

Sometimes, when they’re sleeping, she lingers in their doorway just to watch them breathe. They don’t fit in the frames any longer but they won’t bunk without each other, years of sharing the same room ingrained in them still, even though Charity has offered to get them separate spaces. They’ve gone from Paw Patrol blankets and train engine bed sheets to flannel pillowcases and Huddersfield Town Terrier duvets, dinosaur toys replaced with footie trophies and stacks of video games. 

She wonders where her little boys have gone.

She wonders where her life has gone.

She wonders if she’ll ever get it back.

“I can hardly believe they’re a day over three,” Tracy admits. She shoulders Charity gently. “Now Johnny is taller than you.”

“He’s going to be,” Charity admits. “Must get that from whats-his-name, because V-”

Tracy gives her a soft smile after a silent minute, her fingers curling around Charity’s wrist for a moment. “You know his name.”

“‘Course I do,” Charity grumbles, relief flooding through her when she realizes Tracy is giving her an out. 

Tracy tips her head towards the kitchen table. “Come on. We’ll set the rest of the table and I’ll have Marlon help me bring the plates in.” She starts to move towards the kitchen table, pausing. “Charity, you know I’m here for you.”

“You’re like maggots, yeah?”

Tracy winks. “That makes you rotten, doesn’t it?”

Charity gives her a smile that’s all teeth and kicks lightly at the back of her calf as they squish into the kitchen together, pulling plates from the cabinets and cutlery from the drawers. Not for the first time in the last nine months, Charity pauses as they set the table, watching the easy way Tracy slips around her. It had been the same easy way she’d slid a wine glass out of Charity’s hand and fixed her with a hard stare.

“ _ Get up _ ,” she’d told Charity. “ _ We’re going out. You’ve drank this place dry anyway, haven’t you? _ ”

Charity had pushed her away, held her at arm’s length until Tracy pushed back harder - nights out in Hotten, nights in at Tug Ghyll; drinks in town and drinks in the living room of the Woolpack. They’d gone to the pictures and marathoned television together and one day, Charity woke up and realized Tracy was her best friend - her only friend, really. 

“Boys!” she yells up the stairs, fiddling with the serving pot in the middle of the table. 

It’s a bit too warm for beef and ale stew, but it’s Johnny’s favorite and she can’t make it. She tried, for months after everything fell apart. She tried to do the things she knew she hadn’t done - the things she thought she should have been doing. She tried to make tea, clean the house. But her onion dumplings were gummy and Moses didn’t quite appreciate the vacuum running at daft o’clock - the only time of the day she had to do it.

She gave up and let Marlon make tea like he always had, and Lydia came in during the week to spruce the place up.

_ What’s the point? _ Charity had asked herself.  _ No one to prove wrong anymore _ .

Johnny and Moses come clamoring down the stairs, their feet heavy as they stomp into the living room. The sound fills the empty space in Charity’s chest and something warm blossoms through her body as the two boys laugh, shoving at each other. Moses upends Johnny, dumping him over the back of the couch, and continues to his chair.

“Oi, watch the table,” she scolds as Johnny’s feet come up and narrowly miss the piece of furniture on the way down. 

Tracy pours half a glass of wine for each of them, sipping from hers as she sits down. She laughs when Johnny loops his arm around her neck and kisses the top of her head. “Well well. My favorite nephew has returned.”

Moses pouts, reaching across the table as soon as he sits down. “I thought I was your favorite?”

“You  _ used _ to be, before you snatched my Spice Girls CD.” Tracy grins at Johnny. “Now, it’s him.”

“I didn’t,” Moses says loudly, his voice cracking in the middle of his words. He clears his throat and tries again. “I  _ didn’t _ .”

Tracy nods slowly, like she doesn’t believe him. “And it just went missing on its own, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Moses insists. “I didn’t touch it.”

Tracy hums to herself, sipping from her wine glass. “Well, what’re we waiting for? I’m starving.”

“Beef and ale stew,” Johnny says happily. He grins when Charity scoops a large spoonful into his bowl. “I’ve wanted some of this since the last time Marlon made it for us. It’s been  _ ages _ .”

“We had it last week,” Moses says through a mouthful of beef. He chews furiously, looking up when the table goes quiet. “Oh. Sorry,” he adds, ducking his head.

Charity smiles but it pulls at her face and feels too tight. “S’alright,” she says carefully. “What happened doesn’t change anything, yeah? We can… We can talk about it, you know.”

Moses and Johnny both look away, their spoons scraping the inside of their bowls with a scratch that makes Charity wince. Tracy smiles sympathetically, the corners of her mouth pinched.

“Moses doesn’t want to talk about it,” Johnny says, breaking the silence. “He said it makes him sad.”

There’s a soft  _ thud _ under the table and Johnny flinches, tears in his eyes as he reaches down to rub at his leg.

“Put a sock in it,” Moses grumbles. He glances at Charity. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did,” Johnny argues.

Moses narrows his eyes. “Shut  _ up _ , Johnny.”

Johnny’s mouth sets into a thin line Charity recognizes. For a second, her throat tightens and her hands ache. She’d seen that look the last time Vanessa stood in this living room, bags by the door and Johnny and Moses hiding behind the backdoor, hanging on every word. 

“That’s enough,” she says sharply. Both boys startle, looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s Johnny’s first night ho- back,” she says, tripping over the words. 

_ Not home _ , she thinks.  _ No, his home is in Hotten, now _ .  _ With Vanessa and Frank _ .

“It’s his first night back and I want to have a nice, calm, family dinner, yeah?” She glares at each of them, daring to argue with her.

Johnny lifts his eyebrows, looking down at his bowl. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he mutters. “When have we ever been  _ calm _ ?”

Charity points the end of her spoon at him, her glare softening. “Well, I’ll give you that one.” She sighs, picking up her wine glass and taking a long sip. “Eat your soup. You look like sticks wearing my Johnnybobs’s jumper.”

Johnny’s cheeks flush but he digs into his bowl, smiling around his spoon. Moses settles back against his seat, glancing at Johnny every other bite as if he’s afraid he’ll blink and Johnny’ll disappear. Charity worries about it too, reaching over to finger the sleeve of the jumper he’s wearing - something red that he’ll probably have picked out himself, despite Vanessa’s protests. Charity used to joke about it, how Johnny followed her around like a shadow, always stuck to her side. He’d walk when she walked and talked when she did; always wanting to know what colors she was wearing in the morning so he could match.

When he’s in Hotten, with Vanessa, she feels alone in every room she walks into.

She listens to Johnny and Moses go back and forth, Tracy floating in and out of their conversation with ease. She watches the way Johnny picks his words carefully: only  _ me _ and never  _ Mum and I _ . He tells stories of his new school, the friends he’s reluctantly making, the classes he’s been signed up, and Charity can hear Vanessa in every one of them. 

It hurts just as much as she thought it would. It’s the not the same as it was nine months ago, when she felt like she had been turned inside out and every word sliced through her. Now it’s a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, a throb in her fingertips. Nine months ago, every thought of Vanessa was chased away with a bottle whisky and a cry on Tracy’s shoulder. Now, she holds her breath until her lungs burn and then exhales and moves on.

_ We’re all just moving on, aren’t we? _ she thinks.

Tracy catches her eye, tipping her wine glass towards the boys pointedly. Charity shakes her head; she doesn’t want to tell them now. She thought it would be a good idea, to tell them both at the same time, but there’s something about being at the table now that makes her want to shove down what she has to say and never think about it again.

Not when she can hear Vanessa in Johnny’s laugh, or slide her into his stories. Not when she keeps looking at the empty place at the table where Vanessa should be sitting, teasing Moses about putting too much food in his mouth. Not when she imagines Vanessa’s hand sliding over the curve of her knee as Moses and Johnny tell a tale, finishing each other’s sentences.

Not now; not when she wants her family back.

But Tracy kicks her under the table and makes a face at her. Charity scowls into her stew, weighing her options. She knows she could forget it for now, leave it alone and see how it plays out before she tells the boys. But another part of her, the one Vanessa shaped into being open and honest, knows that she best tell the boys  _ now _ , before they find out from someone else. 

“Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you two about” Charity says slowly, measuring her words with sips of wine. She looks at Tracy, feeling something in her stomach flutter nervously. 

Johnny shovels another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “What’s it?” he asks, chewing.

Charity looks at Tracy again. “Well, I’ve got a thing this weekend. A… A date,” she finishes slowly.

Johnny laughs, his eyes bright. Something in Charity breaks away; he might have been her shadow but he’s the spitting image of Vanessa, a second behind and still laughing like she’s joking.

“Johnny,” Moses says sharply. His eyes are dark and narrowed, staring through her.

Johnny frowns, his forehead rippling. “What’re you on about?”

“A date,” Charity repeats, the words like chalk in her mouth.

“With  _ who _ ?” Johnny spits.

“He’s called Ben, one of the new supplier for the pub and he-”

Johnny flinches back. “You’re married.”

“I’m…” Charity takes a slow breath. “I am.”

“You can’t just go with someone else when you’re married,” Johnny says. He sounds young again, like he’s standing in her doorway watching the lightning crack in the air and he’s worried that their freshly-buried pet rabbit will drink too much water if he stays outside; like there’s something obvious she’s just not seeing.

“Johnny,” she tries.

Johnny shakes his head. “Don’t be daft. You’re not going on a date.”

“Don’t call your ma daft,” Tracy scolds gently.

“I am,” Charity says gently. “Your mum… It’s over, Johnny. She doesn’t live with us. She doesn’t even come into the pub to drop you off. She doesn’t want me anymore.” She can hear her words stretching, each syllable pulling into something close to hysterical. She hasn’t said them aloud before and they cut just as deeply as she thought that they might. 

“You’re a  _ slag _ .”

Johnny’s voice cuts through any numbness building in the pit of her stomach and sweeps the air out of her lungs.

“ _ Johnny _ ,” Tracy gasps.

Charity opens her mouth. “Johnnybobs, just listen to-”

“Get stuffed,” Johnny growls, low and angry. He backs his chair up, standing so quickly that it falls to the floor.

“Johnny!” Tracy shouts, standing.

Charity reaches out, grabbing Tracy’s wrist and holding tight. She shakes her head, her mouth dry for a moment before she’s able to make something come out. “Let him. Let him be.”

Moses slowly picks up Johnny’s chair, righting it and sliding it back into place. 

“Moses,” Charity says. “I-”

“Johnny doesn’t like talking about it, either,” he interrupts. He shrugs a shoulder. “He acts like it doesn’t bother him but he cries sometimes when he thinks I’m asleep.”

Charity feels something sink in her stomach. It boils low and makes her queasy. “Moz…”

Moses shrugs again. “He kept saying you’d get back together, didn’t he. That it was some kind of fight and you’re both too stubborn to say sorry.”

“Moses,” Charity tries again. “Moz, it wasn’t a fight.”

Moses nods. “I know. I mean… I guess I know  _ now _ . And it does make me sad, to talk about it,” he admits, pushing his bowl of stew away. “But Vanessa is still me mum, yeah? Just like dad is still me dad even if he doesn’t live with us.”

“Of course she is,” Charity says in disbelief. “She’s always going to be your mum. For as long as you want her to be.”

Moses smiles thinly, standing. “Best if I go check on him.”

Something crashes loudly above their heads and Charity flinches, her hand gripping the table edge. Tracy’s hand falls over hers, pressing lightly to get her attention as she watches Moses slip out of the room and up the stairs.

Charity laughs, hard and low. “What’s the worst that could happen, yeah?”

“Charity,” Tracy sighs.

“Say yes to the drayman, you said. It’s been nine months, you said. The boys won’t care, you said.”

Tracy presses her lips together in a thin line.

“You said they’d not care,” Charity says, her throat raw. “You said they’d be fine with it.”

Tracy  _ had _ said it, late one night after the fourth time Ben had asked her to town.  _ He’s dead fit _ , she’d said.

_ He’s not Vanessa _ , Charity had mumbled back, staring into her wine glass. She’d huffed and looked up.  _ And shouldn’t you be making sure I never go with anyone else? You’re her sister. _

Tracy had shrugged.  _ She’s my sister, yeah. And I love the bones of her. But you’re my friend and you deserve to be happy too. _

The  _ too _ had played in Charity’s mind like a bad song on the radio, over and over again until it pulsed in her fingertips and she couldn’t get it to go away.  _ Too _ , like Vanessa was happy without her.  _ Too _ , like Vanessa had moved on.  _ Too _ , like she was the only one stuck in the past waiting for something that was never going to happen.

Ben asked her to take a ride to town for the fifth time and Charity said yes,  _ too _ echoing loudly around her.

_ Dating won’t make me happy _ , is what she should have told Tracy.  _ Vanessa makes me happy.  _

“I didn’t know he’d-”

“Act just like his mother?” Charity forces out.

Tracy shakes her head quickly. “Vanessa would  _ never _ call you that.”

“No,” Charity admits. “She wouldn’t.” She pushes her hair back. “I should talk to him, yeah? Set him straight. I won’t go with Ben. It’ll be fine, right?” She looks at Tracy, her mouth dry. “He’ll understand if I just tell him I the truth.”

_ The truth is, I’m alone and Vanessa hasn’t called me in nine months and I only see one of my boys every other weekend,  _ she thinks.  _ The truth is, I only said yes because it hurts too much to think that Vanessa is out there with someone else.  _

_ The truth is, I want to be happy, too. _

Heavy footsteps drum down the stairs and Charity pushes up out of her seat, hands fluttering nervously in front of her as she moves through the living room. She frowns as she sees the bag on Johnny’s shoulder and the hard line of his mouth. 

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m not staying here,” he spits. “I called mum and she’s come to get me.”

“Johnny, let me just-”

“I don’t want to hear it from you,” he growls. He’s hurt, Charity knows it. She can feel the misery wafting off of him in waves and for a moment, she feels like she’s looking in a mirror. He’s saying things now, words he has no business saying, not to her, but he’s  _ hurt _ and he’s  _ sad _ and he’s doing what Charity does best: burning every bridge down so the hurt can’t get any closer.

The door opens and slams shut and Charity startles, gripping the banister to stop herself from falling over.

“Go on,” Tracy breathes into her ear.

Charity shakes her head firmly. “No.”

“Charity,” Tracy says sharply, stepping in front of her. She grips Charity’s shoulders tightly, holding her steady. “You didn’t go after her the first time.”

“She didn’t want me to,” Charity says.

“If you let Johnny go now…” Tracy trails off, shaking her head slowly. “Go on,” she repeats. “Or you’ll regret this, too.”

_ Too _ , Charity thinks.

Charity can hear the sound of tires on the gravel in the car park, the slight squeal of the brakes she told Tracy to tell Vanessa to let Ross check. She starts to shake her head.

“Charity,” Tracy says again. “ _ Go _ .”

Charity takes a deep breath and pulls open the back door, stepping out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven’t done this much - seeing each other. Passing Johnny and Moses back and forth on the weekends has been effortless on both of their parts. Charity has caught sight of her once or twice before, peeking through the curtains like Pearl Ladderbanks, but she hasn’t had this: meeting Vanessa’s eyes in the street at dusk and seeing all of her.

Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the low light coming from the streetlamps lining the cobbles. They catch the bonnet of Vanessa’s car further down the road and she blinks hard against it. She finally spots Johnny, talking heatedly with Vanessa at the side of the car, his hand curled around the door and Vanessa’s hand against his chest.

Vanessa looks up at her and Charity feels her ankle roll as she takes another step.

They haven’t done this much - seeing each other. Passing Johnny and Moses back and forth on the weekends has been effortless on both of their parts. On Friday, when Moses is supposed to go to Hotten, he simply takes the bus to Vanessa’s new front door and she picks him up from the bus stop in Emmerdale on Sunday night. When Johnny comes into the village for his weekends with her, Vanessa is in and out of the car park before Charity can get the door open, tire marks and Johnny the only thing she leaves behind. Charity has caught sight of her once or twice before, peeking through the curtains like Pearl Ladderbanks, but she hasn’t had  _ this _ : meeting Vanessa’s eyes in the street at dusk and seeing all of her.

“I want to go,” Johnny says loudly.

Vanessa sighs. “Johnny, darling, I know-”

“You  _ don’t _ ,” Johnny says, stomping his foot.

Charity nearly laughs. He hasn’t thrown a temper tantrum since he was seven, angry as a wasp that he wasn’t a Dingle like Moses, that the D and W in their last names was so far apart and they couldn’t sit near each other in their classes. Charity had scooped him up and held him on her lap, though he was getting much too big for that, and told him that if that was what he wanted, she reckoned they ought to do something about it.

But here he is, fifteen-going-on-sixteen, and stomping around like he’s five.

“Johnny, please,” Charity manages, the words catching in her throat. She pushes through them, feeling them scratch at her mouth as she breathes them out. “Let me explain.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Johnny spits. He tries to move around Vanessa again. “Let’s  _ go _ , Mum.”

Vanessa holds up a hand firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. I drove all the way from Hotten at breakneck speed and you’ll explain yourself, now.”

Johnny sneers, looking at Charity. “Why don’t you ask  _ her _ ?”

“Johnny,” Vanessa gasps, eyes widening at the tone of his voice. “What is the matter with you?”

Charity takes a tentative step closer. “Johnnybobs,” she says carefully. “Come back inside and we’ll chat, yeah? Just you and I. Like we used to.”

“Like we used to,” Johnny repeats. “When everything wasn’t awful, you mean? When we still lived here? When you still loved each other?”

Charity’s eyes dart to Vanessa, catching the way Vanessa looks away from her.

Johnny continues, his voice too loud in the quiet night. “When you weren’t a slapper?”

“Johnny!” Vanessa’s eyes are wide now, her mouth hanging open.

Charity takes a deep breath. “Right,” she starts. “You can keep calling me names, but-”

“ _ Keep _ ?” Vanessa repeats. She rounds on Johnny, leaning back slightly to meet his eyes. “What else has he said?”

“Nothing,” Charity says quickly. Her stomach turns at the words Johnny called her, at the things he said. It’s nothing new, really, but it hurts more than she’d care to admit it. A part of her knows he’s young and angry and another part of her wants to box him around the ears for even thinking those things.

“Johnny,” Vanessa says, low and warning.

Johnny drops his head, his cheeks barely flushed. He mumbles something under his breath that Charity doesn’t catch, but Vanessa must, if the way she presses her lips into a thin line is any indication. 

“You may be taller than me, Johnny Dingle,” Vanessa hisses, barely tripping over Johnny’s name. “But I am still your mother. And so is Charity. Apologize.  _ Now _ .”

“But she’s going on a date with someone else!” Johnny shouts.

Charity winces before Vanessa even registers the words. She winces again when Vanessa looks at her, just for a moment, before looking away again. Something hard and sharp twists in Charity’s stomach and every part of her aches to go over to Vanessa, to run her fingers across the nape of her neck and tip her head back and look her in the eyes and tell her that it was a stupid idea, that she didn’t want to do it, and she’d take these nine months back in a heartbeat.

But Vanessa is staring up at Johnny and Charity is too much of a coward to make a first move.

Something changes in Johnny’s face, like he’s just realizing what he’s done, and when he looks up and meets Charity’s eyes, his own are wet at the corners.

“Apologize,” Vanessa says through clenched teeth.

“Soz,” Johnny mumbles.

Vanessa nods to herself. “Now, go on inside,  _ right now _ ,” she says over Johnny opening his mouth to protest. “And whatever chore your mother wants you to do, you do it. And then you think about what you’ve done. Because I-  _ we _ haven’t raised you to say things that like.  _ Especially _ to people you love. Do you understand me?”

Johnny’s head jerks in something like a nod and he picks up his black bag, not bothering to lift it onto his shoulder as he brushes past her and stomps up the steps to the door. It opens with a creak and slams shut behind him. The echo of it drifts past Charity and she shakes it off, worrying her hands in front of her.

It’s cool out this time of year and she’s come outside in just her blouse. She wraps her arms around her middle, building her armor up as Vanessa turns to look at her.

“He shouldn’t have said those things,” Vanessa says quickly.

Charity shrugs a shoulder dismissively, shifting her gaze so she’s looking just past Vanessa, unable to meet her eyes. Words like that have long since pierced her skin and she had let herself get soft with time.  _ Or maybe it’s who said them _ , a quiet voice in the back of her mind speaks.

“Once upon a time he would have been right,” Charity admits.

Vanessa’s voice is hot steel. “He’s not right.”

So many things have changed, but this hasn’t: Vanessa’s surefire insistence that she’s better than anyone gives her credit for; that she’s better than even she can believe. There’s a spark in Vanessa’s voice that Charity hasn’t heard in years and it lights something in the pit of her stomach, warming her. Vanessa used to be the only person who ever believed that she was  _ good,  _ that she was decent. And now Charity has Tracy and Ryan and Debs and even Ross, but she doesn’t have Vanessa anymore.

Some nights, she’d trade everyone just for Vanessa back.

“He’s hurt, Ness,” Charity breathes, the name slipping over her tongue before she can stop it. “I… I hurt him.”

“ _ We _ hurt him,” Vanessa corrects. Her voice is firm, still, the way it gets when she’s been beating Charity over the head with the truth and it’s still not sticking. It reminds her of the long nights during Bails’s trial, when she was standing on a thin ledge and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fall or not. Vanessa had held her close those nights, tucked in bed against her side, and whispered hotly in Charity’s ear - saying all the things no one had ever told Charity before, all the things she was sure no one ever would. 

“We hurt them both,” Vanessa continues.

_ Moses _ , Charity thinks. Something pangs within in. Her happy little boy is a quiet, strong young man now and she’s not sure how he got to be that way.

“Silly us,” Charity says too casually. “Thinking we could make this work.”

Something flashes in Vanessa’s eyes. “We made it work for 12 years.”

“Until we couldn’t,” Charity adds.

“Until we didn’t want to,” Vanessa corrects. She looks away, forcing her hands into the pocket of her yellow jacket.

Silence settles over them and Charity isn’t sure when talking to Vanessa got to be so hard.  _ Nine months ago _ , she thinks bitterly.  _ When everything fell apart _ .

“So,” Vanessa breathes, breaking into Charity’s thoughts. “You’ve got a date.”

Charity stretches an arm out before pulling it back against her side. “Ness-

“You’re allowed,” Vanessa says quickly. “If… if that’s what you want.”

“What do  _ you _ want?” Charity asks before she can stop herself. She hates the way it sounds like she’s pleading, like she’s  _ desperate _ for Vanessa’s answer to be “you.” 

Vanessa shakes her head. “You’re a grown woman, Charity. And we’re… we’re separated. So if you want to-” She stops herself, her sentence breaking somewhere in the middle. She smiles but her lips hardly move and then she takes a step back, her hands out of her pocket and fluttering in front of her nervously. “You know what? Goodnight, Charity. Kiss the boys for me, yeah? Tell them I love them.” She turns on her heel and starts down the lane towards her car, the wind catching the end of her hair and whipping it around her shoulders.

There’s a familiar roll of nausea in the pit of stomach. They’ve been here before, dancing this same dance. Charity pushes and Vanessa runs.  _ No _ , Charity thinks to herself.  _ Vanessa leaves. Vanessa gets tired of her and Vanessa leaves. Vanessa gets fed up with her antic and she leaves. _

_ Vanessa is  _ leaving.

“Wait a minute,” Charity is shouting before she can stop herself. Her feet are moving before she realizes she’s running, chasing after Vanessa and stopping just in front of her. “Wait a minute.”

“Charity,” Vanessa sighs. 

“What happened to us?” Charity asks.

It’s the question she asked Tracy over and over again.  _ What happened to us _ ? she’d ask as she poured another measure of whisky.  _ What happened to who we used to be _ ?

Tracy could only gently pry the bottle out of her hand and clean her up before Moses got home.

Vanessa’s mouth tightens. “We grew up,” she offers.

Charity snorts. “And here I was thinking we were already grownups when we met.”

Vanessa sighs wearily. 

It’s familiar, that exasperation. Charity can work with familiar. “I mean, I had four kids. You had one. Business owners, each of us. Places to live. Failed weddings. Mine, of course. But hey,” she says too brightly. “Now you can add one of your own.”

Vanessa’s mouth tighens again. “You know what I mean, Charity.”

“No, babe. I don’t,” Charity says hotly. “It’s why I asked.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrow. “We grew apart. Better?”

“Oh, loads,” Charity says, dragging the words out.

Vanessa throws a hand up into the air and Charity watches it fall back down, lingering on the way Vanessa’s fingers clench the hem of her jacket. “We got… busy, didn’t we? When Paddy and Chas left the village, you had the pub and I had the surgery and-”

Charity smirks, jabbing a finger in Vanessa’s direction. “I knew, somehow, that this was Paddy Kirk’s fault. Always is, innit?”

Vanessa sighs again. “Of course, Charity. Anyone’s fault but your own.”

Charity’s arm falls. “What’re you on about?”

“Blame it on Paddy. Blame it Chas. Blame it on me,” Vanessa rants.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t  _ my _ fault,” Charity says, leaning away. “ _ You _ left.”

“You didn’t stop me,” Vanessa accuses.

Charity’s throat tightens but she tries to swallow around it. “I didn’t stop you?” She steps closer, anger blooming through her. Nine months she’s been blaming herself, thinking Vanessa was doing the same, when really, Vanessa was really blaming her. 

“You’ve had nine months to come and get me,” Vanessa says sharply. “I’ve been sat, waiting for you. But now you’re going on a date with…”

“Ben,” Charity supplies weakly.

“With  _ Ben _ .”

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to  _ come get you _ ,” Charity hisses. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Vanessa asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because  _ you _ left,” Charity says loudly. She doesn’t care if she’s waking the village, or if this will be the talk of the cafe in the morning. She throws her arms up in the air. “Babe,  _ you _ said we weren’t who we used to be.  _ You _ said that we had drifted apart.  _ You _ packed your bags and  _ you _ left.”

“You agreed with me,” Vanessa says, her voice strained.

“What did you expect me to do?” Charity asks wearily. “You weren’t wrong, yeah? We drifted apart. I had the pub and long hours and they never matched yours. You were right, ‘Ness.” She lowers her voice, grumbling. “Usually are. Flamin’ annoying, innit?” She smiles crookedly, her heart fluttering when Vanessa rolls her eyes but the corner of her mouth twitches upward.

“I thought you’d come after me,” Vanessa admits. “I thought you’d… stop me.” She wraps her arms around her waist.

“Not much for chasing you,” Charity murmurs. She looks away, spotting a light on at Smithy Cottage. No doubt someone has heard them yelling and now Rhona and Pete are pressed to the windows, watching them. 

Vanessa snorts softly. “So it seems.”

“Oh, come on, Ness. You could have come back.” Charity can feel something different in her stomach now, anger building hot and heavy. “You could have called. Or come into the pub and thrown a pint glass at my head. You just expected me to chase you all the way to Hotten and what?  _ Beg _ you to come home?”

“You could have called,” Vanessa says.

Charity arches an eyebrow. “Would you have picked up?”

“Yes,” Vanessa says quickly.

Charity scoffs and looks away. “No, Vanessa. You wouldn’t have. Because we were both hurt and stubborn and I wouldn’t have called, anyway.” She sighs. “You  _ knew _ I wouldn’t have followed you.”

Vanessa nods her head slowly. “I know,” she says quietly. 

Charity props her hands up on her hips, letting the cool wind whip through her blouse. She’s burning with anger now, boiling mad. “Let me get this straight, yeah? After twelve years, you think that we’ve  _ drifted _ so you pack your belongings and my son and move to a shoddy flat in Hotten and you expect  _ me _ to come banging down your front door and begging you to come back to me?”

Vanessa cheeks flush. “Not exactly like that.”

“Then  _ how _ , Vanessa?”

Vanessa throws her hands up in the air. “I was  _ going _ to come back. But Moses said you were going out on weekends-”

“With  _ Tracy _ !”

“And I just thought to myself, well. She doesn’t need you, you daft mare,” Vanessa continues. “She’s living her life without you, doing the things she  _ wants _ to be doing. When was the last time  _ we _ went out?”

Charity opens her mouth but she closes it again, unsure. 

“When was the last time we  _ kissed _ ?” Vanessa asks, her voice breaking.

_ Ten months ago _ , Charity thinks instantly.  _ Ten months ago when I was heading back into the pub for the closing shift and you were heading to bed. You kissed me and went upstairs _ .

“So, what?” Charity asks. “We fell out of love, is that it?”

Vanessa’s eyes widen. “I didn’t.”

Charity swallows hard against a lump building in her throat. “I haven’t either,” she admits. 

Vanessa takes a small step forward. “Charity…”

Charity steps back, holding up a hand. “What about…” She shakes her head softly, Tracy’s  _ you deserve to be happy, too _ echoing in her head. “What about your… girlfriend?”

Vanessa frowns softly, tipping her head to one side. “My what?”

“Tracy said…”

_ Too _ .  _ Tracy said too _ .

“The bird you’re seeing,” Charity repeats.

“Charity,” Vanessa says quietly. “I’m not seeing anymore.”

_ Too _ , Tracy had said.

Charity shakes her head again. “No. Tracy said you were happy.”

Vanessa’s cheeks flush. “I told her I was. She was blathering on about her weekend and she didn’t say your name, but I  _ knew _ it was you and you sounded like you were out having fun and you were better off without me and-”

Charity strides forward, stopping just before Vanessa. “I have  _ never _ been better off without you,” she says firmly. “When I’m with you… I’m still the best version of me there is.” Her hands shake when she lifts them but they steady as they find the bottom of Vanessa’s chin, tilting her head back. “To be honest, I’m too old to be going out every weekend with Tracy. My back is cracking the next morning. But I'll tell everyone you're a liar if you ever say so.”

“You’re dead fit,” Vanessa protests. Her hands flutter at Charity’s waist before they settle just under her ribs. “Bunch of idiots, we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” Charity mumbles, smiling anyway. The anger has settled now and something calm washes over her in its place. The boiling hot steam has faded into a warmth that she can feel in the tips of her fingers as they move over Vanessa’s face, retracing lines she thought she’d never touch again. 

“It was Tracy’s idea,” Charity tells Vanessa. “Honest. I kept saying no and she kept telling me to just go out and be happy.”

_ Be happy, too _ .

Vanessa narrows her eyes, her hands twitching at Charity’s sides. “I’ll be having a word with her.”

Charity drags her finger down the skin between Vanessa’s eyes, feeling it wrinkle under her touch. “Be nice to her,” she says absently. “She’s been good to me.”

“Too good,” Vanessa mutters under her breath.

“Not a substitute for you,” Charity assures her. 

“Well, she is-”

“No,” Charity says firmly. 

“I missed you,” Vanessa says. She moves one hand to the front of Charity’s blouse, twisting the fabric in her grip. “I missed being close to you.”

“You missed the free pints,” Charity dismisses, holding her breath as she waits for Vanessa’s response.

“Suppose so,” Vanessa agrees. She flattens her hand against Charity’s stomach. “But I missed the barmaid more than the pints.”

Charity rolls her eyes. “I’ll have you know my  _ pints _ are my best feature.”

Vanessa shakes her head, her eyes welling. She rolls her bottom lip nervously between her teeth and Charity’s chest tightens. 

“Ness…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Vanessa says quickly. “I’m just so bloody stupid.”

Charity wants to argue with her, to tell her that she’s not stupid and it’s okay. But she acted like a pillock and everything was so wrong until ten minutes ago - nothing is solved yet, either. And so she pulls Vanessa a little closer and puts on a smile. “What you are, Vanessa Dingle, is a moody cow.”

“I always have been,” Vanessa whispers.

“I know.” Charity dusts her thumb across the point of Vanessa’s chin. “S’what I love about you, innit?”

The corner of Vanessa’s mouth twitches. “So you love me, then?”

“Reckon I do,” Charity breathes.

“Me an’ all,” Vanessa says quietly. She toes closer, looking up at Charity through her eyelashes. “I’m still a Dingle, yeah?”

Charity’s head jerks in a nod. “If you want to be.”

“What do  _ you _ want?” Vanessa asks.

“You,” Charity says without hesitating. “I want you.”

Vanessa leans back slightly, eyes narrowed. “What’ve you done with my wife?”

Charity sees the out for what it is and leans into it anyway, resting her forehead against Vanessa’s. She can feel Vanessa’s breath hot against her lips and she swallows hard. “Come inside. Marlon’s made enough beef and stew ale for an army. Or, two teenage boys. Come inside, Ness. Come home.”

Vanessa licks her bottom lip and nods slowly. “Tomorrow-”

“Tomorrow we talk,” Charity interrupts. She reaches down, lacing her fingers through Vanessa’s. “But tonight…” She leans the rest of the way in, brushing her mouth against Vanessa’s. Something breaks inside of her and she pushes forward, her hand sliding into Vanessa’s hair, fingers threading through the silky strands. Vanessa presses into her, tongue sliding into Charity’s mouth for a moment before she pulls away.

“Charity,” she pants.

“Tonight, we go home and tomorrow we talk.”

“Home,” Vanessa repeats. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” Charity breathes.

_ Too _ , Charity thinks.  _ Me too _ . 


End file.
